


Speedy Phone Home

by somewhereelse



Series: Guidelines for Reintroduction [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Day after 7.07.Oliver makes an important phone call to someone who’s thought him dead, gone, lost too many times.





	Speedy Phone Home

**Author's Note:**

> No one in my real life would care, but randomly walked past Grant Gustin while out shopping in Venice earlier this week. Saw a dude carrying a well-stuffed bag from Aviator Nation, and my brain went from “oh it’s that inexplicably expensive brand Grant Gustin’s into, wonder who buys that much stuff in one go” to “oh it’s Grant Gustin.”

“Hey, sis.”

Thea and Felicity have bonded so well that even with Thea off to destinations unknown the term of endearment is casual and unpracticed. Somehow, the unexpected reminder that his precious baby sister and the love of his life regard each other as family hits him hard. Oliver doesn’t expect the simple word to tighten his throat, his grip on Felicity’s phone suddenly a stranglehold and tears threatening behind his eyes.

“Felicity? You there?”

Thea’s tinny voice comes across concerned despite the static, gaining a sharp edge from her initial familiar greeting. Without question, he knows Thea (and Roy) would move heaven and Earth to come back if Felicity so much as breathed the word (but she apparently never has). His tongue ties further, and he would give up the call as a lost cause, but Felicity’s there to wrestle the phone out of his vice-like grip.

“Hey, Thea!” she chirps brightly, shooting him a questioning glance and steering him to drop heavily on the couch. Compassionate, brilliant, discerning multitasker, as always. Sometimes, Oliver thinks he keeps Felicity on a pedestal that she’s one day doomed to fall off simply because no one could be that perfect all of the time. Then she takes care of him so instinctively and seamlessly that he _knows_ he does.

“Sounds like Roy but we love him anyway.” The low chuckle brings him back to the present. Felicity’s been chatting with Thea, catching up and keeping her on the line, while rubbing his back comfortingly, waiting for him to come back. He lays a hand on her knee, and she hums along to the end of the story before cutting in. “Anyway! I’ve got someone who wants to say hi, one second.”

Oliver takes the phone back with a grateful look. His hands are steadier, and his throat’s unclogged. A small smile blooms across his face when he carefully says, “Hi Speedy.”

“ _Ollie_. Oh my god. It’s really— You’re actually— I can’t— You’re _home_ ,” she finally settles on breathing.

No, not exactly. This isn’t their childhood home, or her loft, or even the apartment where he first became William’s dad. But then he hears Felicity in the kitchen, muttering at the coffeemaker she can’t quite get to cooperate (“It’s an electronic device I can’t master, Oliver. Obviously, it’s _evil_.”), and, yes, he is absolutely _home_.

There’s a commotion in the background that’s probably Roy reacting to the news. He can’t help but wonder how much Felicity’s told them since Thea sounds not exactly surprised but _relieved_. Like, despite however many plans Felicity detailed or promises she made, Thea didn’t think it was even possible for him to get out. He wonders how many more times he’ll be lost to Thea in her lifetime.

After a moment when they’re both composing themselves, Thea settles into a line of questioning. “When?

“Yesterday,” is his quick answer. He knows how Thea, despite all her independence, fears being forgotten and overlooked. Thanks for that, parents.

“And it’s for real? Permanent? You guys aren’t holed up in some cabin in Idaho while John throws the authorities off your tracks? You’re not going to flee the country under false identities and take up with a band of gypsies? Reinvent yourself as guns for hire named Boris and Natasha?”

For a second, he’s thrown back to Saturday morning cartoons, and his little sister, even back then, calling him as slow as Bullwinkle. Good thing that nickname, unlike his for her, never stuck. “It’s above board,” he reassures her, “and for good. Well, depending on my ability to stop committing crimes.”

“You mean stop turning yourself in for committing crimes.” Her voice is unsympathetic and reprimanding. Clearly, Thea agrees with popular opinion that it was far from the smartest decision he’s ever made.

He falls silent, because there’s not really a defense to that, until she clears her throat purposefully. “So when do I get to talk to, or, better yet,  _see_ , that wonderful nephew of mine? Felicity’s got him so hidden away she doesn’t even trust a former Ra’s al Ghul and the daughter of a different former Ra’s Al Ghul with his location.”

“Because you would try to jailbreak him out of school,” he points out obviously. “And William actually likes school.”

“Fair point. I mean, probably not. I think the kid’s had enough excitement in his life, could do with some old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill boarding school adventures, but you never know. If I got bored enough. Jesus, hold on,” she breaks off when voices pick up in the background, “Yeah, _okay!_ Nyssa would like it noted that Malcolm was never legitimately Ra’s and so objects to my prior statement.”

“Sounds about right,” Oliver manages to chuckle. This is what passes for normalcy in their lives, somehow. His sister relaying complaints from a former assassin as they travel around the world to destroy Fountains of Youth. It’s always going to be preferable to how he spent the last seven months.

“Hey bro, sorry to cut this short, but we have to get moving.” 

Thea sounds remorseful, and the interruption chokes him up again. All of a sudden, ending this fragile connection to his sister feels like the hardest thing in the world. He white knuckles the poor phone and tells himself to get a grip, forcing an unaffected tone to his voice.

“Stay safe, okay? And come home soon. We’ll get William back for Christmas break.”

“Yes! Presents and cocoa and sufganiyot. It’s a plan. Talk soon. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” he responds just before the dial tone kicks in.

Blood rushes to his head, and he can hear the pounding in his ears. Thankfully, Felicity appears with two hard-won cups of coffee. She hands one to him before settling at his side, immediately pressing in close when he loops an arm around her shoulders. They sit in silence for awhile as the coffee warms him from the inside.

“How’s she _really_ doing?” Felicity asks quietly, breathing the question into his bicep. “Sometimes, I think she just likes to tell me about Roy’s and Nyssa’s shenanigans to keep my mind off things.”

“Sounded good. In a rush though,” he says regretfully, “Where are they right now?”

“Still in Eastern Europe somewhere? They haven’t asked me to get a flight in awhile so I think they’ve been getting by on trains.”

He pulls back a little and turns to look at her with the surprise apparent on his face. “You were still helping them? Even when you were—”

“Of course,” Felicity rolls her eyes in that familiar way, “You think a little thing like protective custody can stop this hacker?  _Please_. Don’t tell John, though. I cannot endure another lecture right now.”

As the former sole attendee of John Diggle’s lecture series on life and morality, he files away the _another_ for later. There are more important matters to address. “You’re remarkable, you know that?”

A light blush colors Felicity’s cheeks, and she waves him off. “So you keep saying.”

“So you keep _proving_ ,” he answers readily. Her blush deepens, and he’s surprised that Felicity still reacts the same way, after everything they’ve been through, everything he’s put her through. If only he acted on his— _their_ —attraction back then, in that dark, quiet server room, maybe he’d be less of a bonehead by now.

It strikes him then. They’re alone like last time, but not quite the same. No office environment, no more visitors to expect, and no more phone calls to make. Better yet, they’re _together_ , and he can fully demonstrate just how remarkable he knows Felicity is. Hastily, he sets the mug down on the coffee table, mediocre coffee sloshing onto the wood. (Felicity’s right. If she can’t get the thing to turn out a decent cup, it’s obviously evil.)

Without so much as a word or a look, Felicity’s on the same page. Her mug joins his. She kicks off her leggings at the same time he yanks his shirt over his head. Suddenly, he can’t be too upset that Thea had to go.

“I know we put on clothes because it’s, like, weird to talk to your sister naked, but seriously. For the next 48 hours, this is a clothes-free apartment. Exceptions can be made for cooking and answering the door, but that’s it. I’m not kidding. If you so much as try to put underwear on, I will take all your clothes outside and burn them, and everyone can assume the worst, and I won’t even care because at least you’ll be naked like God intended.”

Somehow, during her ranting, Felicity’s managed to lose her shirt, finagle his sweatpants down around his knees, and climb into his lap, as naked as God intended. Oliver pauses to brush away the hair that’s gone a little wild around her face and finds himself staring at Felicity Smoak’s ( _Queen’s?_ Another question for later.) most serious expression.

Oliver grins, then smiles, then chuckles, working his way up to a full belly laugh. 48 hours ago he was sitting in a jail cell, contemplating how he ended up working with the most unlikely psycho ever. Now he’s got his arms around his naked-as-a-bird wife who’s threatening to burn all his newly acquired clothes so they can have what will surely be a 48-hour marathon of sex.

Holy shit, he’s really _home_.

 


End file.
